


Weeks Earlier

by twii2ted_8333335



Series: Prostitute Stan AU [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Emotional Hurt, Homesickness, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5464442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twii2ted_8333335/pseuds/twii2ted_8333335
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the glasses. They were thick rimmed and large on the guy's face, and that's what attracted Stan to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weeks Earlier

**Author's Note:**

> Another request, this time as a prequel to Months After the Fact with Stan mossing Ford

It was the glasses. They were thick rimmed and large on the guy's face, and that's what attracted Stan to him. He'd laid the flirting down pretty thick, making his intentions almost blatantly obvious. All the while looking at his glasses and his eyes, so familiar it was almost creepy. 

He should've stopped the moment he started honestly. The moment he knew it was the glasses drawing his attention, he should have apologized and left. Instead they settled a price, and left for his customer's home in silence. 

It was easier to kiss him with the glasses on. Familiar again. He knew which angle to tilt his head so he didn't knock against the edges, knew where to slip his fingers in the other's hair as they got rougher so that he didn't knock them off. Their hips rubbed against each other without care for the slight burn of the fabric on their growing erections.

For a brief moment, Stan remembered the same frantic dance in the closet of a friend's house during an after school party. He'd dragged Ford there, one of his only attempts to get him to socialize, and they'd ended up in the hallway closet, panting hard and trying not to moan despite the music. 

Stan's pants were removed, as was his underwear, kicked away towards the front door for easy retrieval. His customer unzipped his own pants to let out his member but nothing more. Looked like this would be fairly quick. Stanley wasn't complaining. With his thoughts and memories all jumbled like this, the sooner he left, the better. 

Stan produced the supplies — the bottle of lube that his customer snatched up and the condom that he was more reluctant to take — and turned around, spreading his legs to make this easier, faster. He needed to get out of there. 

Facing away from him turned out to be a bad idea. His fingers were thick as they slipped into him, one by one, so, so _similar to **him**_ and they were long. Long enough to find his prostate and rub against it. "For- _ohhhhh_ ," he forced himself to break off into a somewhat exaggerated moan, hoping to God the other man hadn't noticed his slip up. He didn't seem to, thrusting his fingers faster to try and coax more sounds from Stan. Only half of them were fake. 

When his customer removed his fingers and aligned himself to Stan's entrance, he also pressed the rest of his body flush against him. Chest to back. Lips against his neck. Stan was reminded of another memory that felt like decades ago but was just earlier that year. He'd had full on, virginity losing sex with the most important person in his life and they'd laid just like this in their bed. 

They'd said I love you for the first time as lovers instead of brothers that night. He choked back a sob as he was filled, trying to remind himself that he wasn't back at home, that this wasn't his brother even if he could feel the edge of those glasses digging into his skin and those lips were whispering about how pretty he was, how the sounds he made were gorgeous, how no one was around so he didn't have to hold anything back. Just like that night too.

Five fingers on each hip. Not six. Different glasses. Different eyes, but same color — _No! Different person!_

He wished he hadn't turned around. It was still too hard not to pretend. He could feel the phantom touch of an extra finger, shuddered with each drag of those glasses and each too accurate thrust inside him that shoved his customer's cockhead against his sweet spot. He couldn't stop the moans tumbling from his lips, each one real and loud and — 

Five fingers grasped his erection and pumped him but he swore he could feel six soft ones instead. He couldn't help himself at that point. He thrust lightly into the grip, almost whimpering from the intensity of pleasure he was feeling, building up inside him. "Ah — ah-ahh — s-so close — gon-gonna cum — !" 

Teeth gnawed at the lobe of his ear. "Go ahead, Stanley," was whispered hotly against his skin and Stan howled when he released. His customer followed shortly after, filling him up with nothing but dread. Even in the throes of pleasure he knew he'd made a mistake. He called out a name. He'd called out his brother's name. 

There was a thick silence as they cleaned and fixed themselves up. Stan was refused his payment, and he honestly didn't have it in him to argue. He left in a hurry, with no other words.

He tried to hold off until he got to his car. He tried to move as fast as possible so he wouldn't embarrass himself, wouldn't make a fool of himself, but when he tripped on the uneven part if one block's sidewalk and crashed into the concrete, that was it. He burst. He laid there on the cold path, tears blurring his vision and making dark spots under his cheeks. 

"Mi-miss you," he hiccupped, "Miss you s-s-o much, F-Ford...."

Eventually, he managed to at least sit up and pat himself down, making sure nothing was broken or bruised. His knee bled a little from being scraped along the concrete but that was the worst of it thankfully. He stumbled the rest if the way to his car, collapsing in the backseat once all the doors were locked. He tore the picture of them from his car ceiling, letting it rest on the seat by his head as he laid there uncomfortably. 

"Miss you, sixer," he whispered again, imaging that were Ford around, he'd say he missed him too. He'd miss him and love him and he'd hold him close and kiss him again like he used to. Like he wanted. 

"I'll call him tomorrow. I'll call him up and, and see what he's doing..." he promised the air around him as he drifted off into a light sleep, but when the next day came and he saw his client from the night before near the corner he'd claimed in this town, he couldn't bring himself to do anything except head back to his car and drive. 

Drive until he ran out of money. Drive until he ran out of gas. 

Drive until he found himself at a college full of kids who'd pay good money to get a little piece of him, if he played his cards right.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to request something, I've got anon open on my blog~   
> Sinful-shipping.tumblr.com


End file.
